


To Dream of Inquisition

by Nevermourn



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern Girl in Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermourn/pseuds/Nevermourn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life on Earth was harsh. Life in Thedas would probably be harsher. Was it a dream, or a new reality?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is on hiatus for an unknown amount of time.

Just a heads up, I'm not the best writer. I do this mostly for fun in my free time when I'm bored out of my mind, so here ya go. The rating might change in the future, but for now, it is what it is. I obviously don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters, so that's out of the way. 

* * *

 

_“I walk a lonely road,_

_The only one that I have ever known,_

_Don't know where it goes,_

_But it's home to me and I walk alone…”_

The room was silent beyond the speakers within bright red ear buds, secured from the local store on her college campus. The only source of light was the steady gold that her lamp glowed with. Shadows curled around the room, slipping beneath the furniture of her computer desk and bookshelf, sliding underneath the bed she rested upon, crawling up the wall to her window to seep through the glass and out into the cool night. She eyed the darkness warily, her fingers sliding around the smooth cloth of her pillowcase. She relished the strange sensation that came with her addiction of rubbing the surface of the fabric across her skin. It was a strange habit that had followed her into adulthood, and it wasn’t the only one. Some would call it a form of stimming; she simply called it a moment of peace from all the stress of her busy lifestyle, threatening to consume her with anxiety in return for every breath she took.  College was difficult, far beyond the levels of high school, though she found herself thankful that social interaction was unnecessary. She went to her daily classes (she had one every day of the week, even on the weekends), and then went straight back to her dorm, curling into bed to read a book or listen to music. Her lifestyle was a solitary one. Occasionally, she would gain the strength to switch on the tv, or muster the will to play the PlayStation Four she had only just managed to afford. Her friends were there, in the game, waiting for her to assume control.

She had never felt as if she belonged within the world. Fantasy was her realm of choice, and reality was a burden she’d rather flee from than accept. Still, she labored, day to day, with what little motivation she had, working and going to class and hopefully, one day, happiness would find her before death did. It didn’t seem likely. The Reaper seemed like a far more merciful choice than waiting for Father Time to offer some reprieve. Her most favored companions lived within the world of Thedas, in the Dragon Age series that had only just managed to steal her soul away from The Elder Scrolls. She had saved the world from the blight, slain an archdemon, become a champion of Kirkwall, freed the mages from the brutality of the Templars, and stopped an ancient magister from ascending to godhood.  All in a day’s work for Emily.

_“My shadow's the only one that walks beside me,_

_My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating,_

_Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me,_

_'Til then I walk alone…”_

She didn’t listen to Green Day all that much, but in that moment it felt appropriate. She really did walk alone. It was unfortunate, but ultimately necessary. She wasn’t one to particularly enjoy the company of others, or tolerate the ignorance of those that thought they knew everything. Most preferred to take advantage over her, because she was kinder than most, too gentle to deny those around her and helping people made her feel quite pleasant inside, even if they were rude and uncaring in return, even if they made her suffer for it. She supposed it didn’t help that she was strange to those around her, with odd twitches, jerky and delayed responses, and empty eyes that seemed to gaze through others in a way she was certain unsettled them. She was merely deep in thought, when that happened, but they made her feel outcast for it nonetheless. It didn’t matter. Their opinions didn’t matter; even if they stung her enough to draw tears into her eyes. Ultimately, nothing mattered. She lived to breathe, and she would breathe until she died, and then it would all be over. Sweet release. She’d wait out the hopelessness of the world for as long as she could manage, but when the scythe came down for her spirit, she didn’t plan to resist. Emily settled her head deeper into the pillow at her back, plucking her earphones from her ears and setting tomorrow’s alarm. Class at eight in the morning was never something she found joy in, but it needed to be done. _Just keep swimming._ The blue striped fish appeared with her mind, the odd voice of Dory was what lured her to sleep in the end.

_Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming._

_\-----------------------------------------------------_

She was dreaming, and that in itself was unusual. She wasn’t used to dreaming. The darkness preferred to embrace her more often than colorful visions, though she had always desired a more active imagination while she slumbered. The strangest part, however, was that she knew she was dreaming. What was that called again? _Lucid._ The word echoed around the dark space she stood within and she nodded to herself. Of course, it was called lucid dreaming. How immensely strange.

Her brown eyes darted around the cavernous location her mind had saw fit to spawn her within, taking in the strange emerald mist that seeped from black stone. There was a cliff ahead of her, or so she suspected enough. The sheer drop-off was enough of a hint despite her distance. Curious, she walked along the hard surface beneath her feet, suddenly accosted by a foul smell. It made her want to puke as it drifted into her nostrils, and despite having never experienced such a disgusting scent, it immediately summoned forth the image of twisted, burning bodies, their features mangled and unrecognizable. The corpses were conjured around her, surrounding her feet, reaching towards her with lacerated and boiling hands. Their pained moans shattered the silence of the nightmare, and Emily nearly collapsed from the terror that burrowed its way into her mind. She knew it was a nightmare. She thought she could close her eyes and will it all away, but when she opened them again the bodies were still littering the stones and some had managed to crawl onto their feet, shambling toward her with glowing amber eyes. It shouldn’t be happening. Why was she experiencing this? She definitely had not been considering burning zombies when she had fallen asleep.

Jerking on her heel, she turned to retreat from the scene unfolding before her, rushing toward the edge of the cliff with a desperate gaze. She slowed to a stop when she stood mere inches away, gazing into the abyss below. It was a vortex of ghastly green, swirling around a shadowy core. Emily became aware of the threat mere feet behind her when an eerie groan swept past the torn lips of one of the corpses rushing toward her back. She told herself it was all a dream, just a nightmare, and when she fell, she would awaken. It was the only logical thing she could think of. With a silent scream perched upon her tongue, Emily held her breath and leaped forth. Emerald tendrils shot from the void below, curling greedily around her body, and she shouted with a sudden, burning agony. It felt as if she was being torn apart from the inside, and then the pain had faded, and she was left drifting for a moment, weightless as if her body had been ripped from her, before her consciousness descended into the ravenous depths below.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, I should probably mention that I have no set update schedule. I have a busy life so I can't guarantee fast updates. 

* * *

 

She didn’t know how long she had been sleeping, but she felt exhausted. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet. She was uncomfortable, the warmth of her bed had abandoned her and she felt only the cold surface of the floor. Had she fallen in her sleep, during the nightmare? A moment later, and she pulled herself a little farther from the grip of sleep, realizing that she was no longer lying down, but sitting up, her arms weighted by hard metal. When she finally managed to peel her eyes open, she realized that she had been positioned upon a stone floor, her hands chained. Groggily, she attempted to make sense of what was going on. It didn’t take much longer to fully awaken when a stabbing pain coursed up her arm and the same sickly green of the void lit up the stone room. She yelped, panicked, before the light began to fade, though a nagging ache still lingered.

Raising her head, she glanced around the room. There were torches, cutting away at the shadows that shrouded her, and she could make out prison bars on either side, though she didn’t appear to be situated within a cell. She was surrounded by those that appeared to be soldiers, and her sudden movement had caused them to draw their swords, each distinctly sharp steel point aimed for her throat. Fear swept through her body before she realized she must have still been dreaming, but the thought only brought more questions to her mind. How could she feel pain within a dream? That didn’t make sense, but the pulsating on the palm of her hand felt very real, and very uncomfortable. There was a rustling past the wooden door ahead of her, and she shifted to watch for visitors, wincing as the door burst open with banging force. The shadows that entered were hardly recognizable until they moved into the light, their faces sharpened with obvious purpose.

The soldiers sheathed their weapons and moved away, and the two women that approached caused a jolt of recognition to widen her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The onyx haired women moved to speak into her ear with an unpleasant tone, and Emily nodded gently. She knew how this was supposed to go. She had played the game enough times to have remembered what came next. She would be released and set forth to seal the breach and ultimately form the inquisition. The realization brought a slight smirk to dance upon her lips. She had never dreamed of Dragon Age before. She rarely dreamed at all, and when she did, it was typical nonsense. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.” Cassandra continued to speak, circling back around to her front so the two could face one another. She did not forget Leliana’s presence, lingering nearby and analyzing her face like a hawk. Smirking had probably not been the best idea.

“Cassandra.” Emily responded in a light voice, shivering slightly as she began to feel the touch of frigid air that had rushed in behind her interrogators when they entered the room. She realized she was still in her pajamas, fuzzy black pants covered in the yellow bat signal of her favorite hero, and a light, silky blue shirt plastered with Superman’s crest. “I had nothing to do with it.” She didn’t remember exactly how her character responded within the game. She knew there was more than one choice. The Seeker raised her brow with some bit of surprise, and Emily realized that it probably didn’t make sense that she would know the warrior’s name.

“Who are you?” The woman demanded to know, coming to rest mere inches from her face. Emily gulped. She didn’t remember that part of the introduction, but figured her own dialogue wasn’t either, so she shrugged it off. It was a dream. Anything could happen. Without waiting for an answer, the Seeker shot forward, snatching Emily’s glowing wrist with a painful snare of tight fingers and jerking it towards her. “Explain this.” Sure, why not? But what should she say? She already knew what the mark was, but the thought of giving away too much was strangely unappealing. Spoiler alerts, and the fact that they might believe her to be a spy, or worse. It was better to deny any knowledge. The whole reason Cassandra had always let her characters live was due to their apparent ignorance of the situation. If she decided to just mouth off the entire plot of the game to her captors, then it probably wouldn’t end well. They’d think she was a lunatic, realistically.

“I’m...I can’t remember!” Hell, she would already spew enough lies, what was one more? She grimaced, trying to pull her arm back and away from the harsh grip of the warrior. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. It wasn’t supposed to hurt at all. Things didn’t hurt in dreams. They weren’t real. “The thing on my hand…I’m not certain, it’s some kind of mark.” Well, that was obvious enough. It was a mark, a pulsating, gaping void in the palm of her hand, and it _hurt._ “I have no idea how it got there.” Emily shook her head, knowing the lie behind her own words. She did, in fact, know that the mark came from touching the orb that Corypheus had used to rend the veil…but it _hurt_. Why did it _hurt_ so much? It was actually starting to make her tear up, and she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, and willed the pain away. _This is a dream. You’re not real. Go away._ Nothing happened. The ache on her palm did not waver.

Suddenly Cassandra was rushing toward her again, and she barely had time to brace herself before the woman’s hands came down upon her shoulders, gripping with rage.

“You’re lying!” The Seeker accused, and she was right, but the thought of execution didn’t seem like an interesting one, even if none of the situation was truly real. Too bad for Cassandra. She wouldn’t be getting the truth any time soon. The red headed rogue stepped in, then, pushing the Seeker away and Emily immediately thought about the _good cop, bad cop_ routine. The thought would have made her chuckle, had her hand not felt like it was on fire. She listened as Leliana informed Cassandra of her use, and tried to focus on their voices rather than the pain she was in, or the cold that had seeped past her clothes.

None of it made sense. It was the one thing that had been nagging at her throughout the entire dream, so much that she couldn’t even take the time to enjoy it. She was cold, and hurt, and now that she thought about it, still exhausted, and none of it fit together like it was supposed to. She wanted to scream with frustration. She wanted to stim, but her hands were shackled, so she rocked back and forth instead, silently willing herself to relax.

“I don’t understand.” She mumbled more to herself than to the others. She had never lucid dreamed before. Was there supposed to be pain? Was everything supposed to look so damned realistic? Why was she so afraid? The women in front of her were both familiar, and she knew what was certain to happen next, but she still felt like she was suffocating in some nightmare. She should have been enjoying what was happening, she had always imagined living in the world of Thedas for herself, but instead she was growing steadily more afraid, and confused, and eager to escape the pain that was slowly consuming her arm.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Leliana had approached her again, speaking more calmly than Cassandra had. That was good. That was soothing. Emily ceased her rocking for a moment to respond with a nod. She felt like she could be honest here. She felt like it was a good idea.

“I was dreaming.” Emily almost whispered. Then she realized that she had said _was_ instead of _is_ , and the words suddenly disturbed her, stirring some anxiety that should have been as nonexistent as the pain. Leliana nodded for her to continue, clearly sensing that there was more. “Burning corpses chased me through…through…” She realized then, what the swirling abyss had been. _The Breach._ She had stepped through the breach within her nightmare. But what did that mean? What significance did that hold? “I stepped through the rift.” She finally managed to speak again.

“The rift?” Leliana seemed surprised then, and lowered her hooded head as if contemplating the words. Cassandra moved forward to interfere, pressing against the future spymaster as if urging her out the door.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana, I will take her to the rift.” The Seeker spoke, her voice was much gentler than it had been earlier, but it was still firm. The red headed woman agreed without another word, and Cassandra turned back to the prisoner to usher her to her feet, unchaining her hands. Emily was glad to be free of the iron, relief momentarily distracting her from the ache on her palm. She realized how raw the chains had rubbed her wrists and whimpered at the sight of the red marks across her flesh. _More pain. More pain that shouldn’t exist._ They walked through the stone hall, away from the prison she had been confined within, and eventually found their way up the stairs and standing within the hall of the Chantry. It was warmer there, well-lit and somewhat comforting. Seeing the grand structure in a more realistic setting than the game had shown sent excitement rushing through her head. She reached the Chantry exit with a sudden eagerness.

When the large wooden doors were pushed aside, she found herself awestruck. In the skies, the monstrous, swirling void that was the breach hovered like a portal to another world, promising apocalypse to those below. It looked so…real. It was absolutely magnificent.

“We call it the breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” Emily nodded. She knew well enough what it was. Hell, she had played the game about ten times, and she had practically come from the other side of it. Now that she thought about it, she realized her nightmare with the corpses had looked strangely like the fade. She was intrigued, so intrigued, in fact, that for a brief time, she had forgotten all about the pain in her palm, or the fact that she was absolutely _freezing._ Her eyes widened for a moment when she began to feel it. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course she wasn’t. She didn’t sleep with a bra on. Her face grew hot with embarrassment where none should have existed. _It’s just a dream._ She reminded herself. She realized Cassandra had not stopped talking, but mentally shrugged to herself. It didn’t matter. She knew what was going on. An explanation was the last thing she needed.

Suddenly, the breach expanded, right before her eyes, the green center of the massive vortex exploding with power. Fire blazed through her arm. It felt like the limb was melting, and she opened her mouth to scream, crashing to her knees onto the snow. _No!_ This was a dream! It was a dream! There wasn’t any pain, it was all fake! How could there be pain?! Tears swam before her eyes, but they didn’t make it onto her cheeks. She became aware of the Seeker that had moved to lean over her with a serious expression.

“Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads…and it is killing you.” She knew that. But it wouldn’t, because she’d stop the breach from expanding, like she had done in all of her play-throughs. She knew exactly how this would play out. Why, then, did she feel the buildup of so much fear coursing through her veins? “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.” Cassandra continued. Emily nodded. She knew.

“I’ll help.” She spoke in a quiet voice, slowly pushing herself back onto her feet. The Seeker seemed to approve.  Together they rose, and began to move through the village. She crossed her arms over herself to hide her chest from those that had gathered, spewing insults and spitting at her feet.

“Blasted Knife-Ear.”  One of the men snarled at her, and Emily felt momentary confusion over the statement. Knife-Ear? She wasn’t an elf…was she? She raised a hand to the side of her head, feeling along the tip of her… _I’m an elf._ She fingered the tip of her sharpened ears with wide eyes. She always made elven characters when she played the game. Perhaps she was simply imagining herself as one of them. She drew her fingers away when she realized that rubbing the tip of her new elven ears caused a rather pleasant sensation that one should only ever really feel in private. She glanced over toward Cassandra when the warrior began speaking again.

“They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars.” Emily nodded to herself. There was nothing new about the situation, despite her lack of…humanness. She found herself fisting the soft fabric of her thick pajama pants with anxiety. They paused for a moment, near what she knew to be the forge, and Cassandra had presented her with a thick coat of leather and fur as well as some boots. Emily muttered her thanks and slipped into the coat that hung toward her knees, clearly some type of light armor, though it was still somewhat heavy to her. She pulled the boots onto her feet. Despite the discomfort, she was glad for the warmth. They proceeded onward toward the breach, and she remembered the path quite well.

Only once did she stumble, when the breach expanded once more, sending her to her knees, but Cassandra had helped her back onto her feet and they carried on, but she hesitated on the bridge that she knew would crumble beneath them.  Cassandra shoved her forward. She wasn’t going to tolerate any faltering on her watch.

“Wait, Cassandra.” Emily insisted with a sudden urgency, but the Seeker ignored her and jerked her onward, right up until the emerald projectile shot from the breach and slammed into the bridge just as she had predicted, and they crashed onto the ice below. More pain that should never have existed, shooting through her side as her body connected with the frozen water. She had barely managed to get to her feet before a demon sprung up before them, and the warrior rushed off to engage the beast. Emily watched for a moment. The creature looked absolutely terrifying; nothing like the game had presented it. Then there was a hiss at her feet, and she suddenly remembered that the second demon would be forming just feet away.

She turned, seeking the weapon she hoped would be waiting for her near the crates, just as they had been for her characters. A staff lay amidst the rubble of the fallen bridge, and a moment of panic shot through her. How could she use a staff? Was she a mage? How did that even work? How was she supposed to know how to cast magic? It was all she had. There was no sword waiting for her, only the silvery staff against the ice. Rushing forward, she snatched the weapon, whipping toward the demon that was now advancing toward her. Terror shot through her mind, her heartbeat quickened, she rushed forward, hoping to jerk around the demon, calling out to Cassandra and desperately hoping the warrior would hear her and come to her rescue.

The demon reached for her, hissing once more and on a whim, Emily spun on her heal and lashed out with her staff, electricity rushing along its length to surge into her foe with enough force to send it falling backward. Screeching, it dissolved into a pool of disgusting liquid, and she staggered back with a heavy breath of relief. She turned just in time for another heart attack, Cassandra’s blade pointed toward her throat. Oh, right. The Seeker wanted her to relinquish her weapon.

“I need it.” Emily insisted. “What if another demon attacks me?” She was genuinely terrified of that happening again. It was different in the game, but that made sense. Seeing a demon, actually in front of her, feeling as real as the air she breathed was something entirely different than playing a game. Eventually, Cassandra agreed, and they carried on. Emily was consistently reminded of her exhaustion and the pain in her hand, the ache in her muscles, and the cold air that still burrowed its way past her pajama pants, though her coat did a good job of protecting her upper body, as well as keeping the entire world from observing her icicle boobs.

After watching Cassandra take care of a few more demons while she, the coward, lingered in the background, they soon came upon their first small rift. There she could see her other future companions in action. Varric whipped his crossbow around with wicked accuracy, while Solas swung his staff with a grace she had been unable to admire in the game, frost whipping around his weapon. She stood there a moment, amazed, before Cassandra shoved her forward.

“We have to help.” The woman snapped, rushing toward the battle, brandishing her weapon. _Yeah, you have fun with that._ Emily thought to herself, though she still had her staff in her hands, she remained a respectable distance away from the demons that were engaged with her…allies? That was, until, a demon decided that it would form beneath her feet once more. Swinging her staff around, Emily attempted to remember how she had cast her lightning the last time she had been attacked, but she had done so out of fear then, and while her heart was gripped with terror once more, she couldn’t manage an attack similar to her last stroke of luck. The end of her staff flickered with electricity, and the demon hesitated for a moment before realizing that there was no threat. It launched itself toward her, and she fell back as it struck, right onto her ass. But its claws never reached her skin. They were scrabbling for her flesh, but only managed to bite into the glimmering blue of a…barrier? She felt it then, magic swirling around her slender frame, licking at her skin and causing her entire body to tingle with a strange sensation. She looked up, and found Solas intent upon her form. He had cast the barrier, and now the demon snarled with frustration as it struggled with her, before an arrow tore into its skull.

Emily rushed to her feet, jerking toward the others and searching for another enemy that might leap out of the snow at her. She sought their protection, the security she had felt when she had been wrapped in Solas’s barrier. She yearned for it again. It had made her feel safe, but the cold air had rushed back to bite at her skin, and she knew it was gone. Suddenly, the elven mage was beside her, taking her by the wrist and dragging her toward the open maw of the rift. _Oh right, I should close that._

“Quickly, before more come through!” _Wait!_ She had no idea how to close a rift! Closing one in a video game was entirely different than closing one in some weird, lucid dream! Her eyes widened with panic, but Solas merely thrust her palm toward the emerald tear in the fade, and the tether leaped from the scar on her palm, tugging at her skin. Then it was over. She jerked away, attempting to escape the grasp of the rift, and of Solas. It was all too overwhelming, but as soon as she tore her palm away, the rift imploded, closing in on itself and she stood there gasping at its demise. After a moment, she realized the others were watching her curiously.

“H-how?” She opened her palm to watch the glimmering of the mark. It hurt a bit less, but the pins and needles feeling that had taken the place of the ache was no less uncomfortable. She looked back toward Solas, waiting for an explanation before remembering the cut scene in the game. This was where he insisted that he had absolutely nothing to do with whatever the hell had just happened. She narrowed her eyes, taking in his figure. He was muscular, but his robe hid most of that beneath thick cloth. His facial features were sharp and quite pleasant to look at. _You caused the breach, handsome asshole._  Emily remembered well enough. She stood before the Dread Wolf, the one who had always left her heartbroken Inquisitors, in the end. But this was a dream; perhaps she could change that, if she didn’t wake up before then.

“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.” The elf responded, and she noted the confidence in his tone. He must have been feeling quite proud of himself in that moment. “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.” Solas continued on with his explanation, and Emily turned back toward her hand, opening and closing her first to try and relieve the discomfort there, a slight smirk curling her lips as she did so. _You theorized, huh?_ Cassandra stepped in for a moment, hope glittering within her eyes. She was hoping the mark could close the breach, and she was right. Solas smiled, then, staring at her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” She couldn’t help but grin when she heard the dwarf jump in. He was also quite handsome, asides from his nose. It looked broken, but it didn’t seem to bother him. The chest hair was a bit…exotic, but she decided she loved him anyways. She continued to smile as they all exchanged introductions, including Bianca. It was quickly established that the rogue would accompany them into the valley despite the objections of their Wonder Woman. And then Solas spoke up, and Emily nodded. She realized that they would be expecting her name, but she could hardly give them her real one. It wouldn’t make sense. She closed her eyes for a moment, stumbling over her thoughts as she considered something she could use. She knew quite a bit of the language due to her online explorations, and recalled several words. Perhaps  Vherlin? She was certain that meant feline, or cat, and she quite liked cats. That would do.

“Thank you for watching over me. I-I’m Vherlin. I just remembered.” She fingered the cuff of her leather sleeve for a second, eyes lingering upon the fabric as she swayed on her feet. “I guess I am here to help.” She shrugged for a moment, shuffling, and then she remembered what Cole had always said and chuckled lightly. “Here to help the hurting!” It seemed appropriate. There was nothing else she could do. It wasn’t like turning around and heading back to Haven was an option, she knew how to game went along. She looked up to find the others had noticed her odd movements, and Cassandra was watching her with a worried expression. _Oh yes, this is the girl you’re taking with you to the breach._ Newly named Vherlin thought to herself, amused.

Solas glanced toward the Seeker and began to speak again.

“Cassandra, you should know: The magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power.” The ancient elf explained. Cassandra seemed to understand, but before she could speak up, Vherlin butted in with a bit of a leap.

“Oh. Yes. Yes. I forgot! To mention, I mean. I forgot to mention that I have no idea how to cast magic.” She suddenly seemed quite shy, crossing her arms over her chest as her smile faltered. “So…um, yeah, sorry about that.” She shifted uncomfortably, and the Seeker definitely looked concerned.

“You’re a mage, and you have no idea how to cast magic? How old are you?” Cassandra demanded, and she seemed somewhat irritated. It was obvious enough she wasn’t exactly the best at it, given their earlier combat, but the fact that she had _no idea_ how to cast a spell probably came as a bit of a shock to the group. Vherlin clasped her hands together, rubbing her two thumbs across each other before flapping her hands a bit, letting them return to her sides.

“Uh, well, I am twenty four. BUT. But…see I’m not from…well, you know, I’m not from…” She pointed toward the breach in the sky, hopping from one foot to another. “I’m not front the same side. The same side of the breach, that is. I come from…yeah I don’t belong here.” Oh wow, the cold had faded in an instant. Awkward. She was burning up, sick and embarrassed. Solas seemed to be glaring at her with a renewed intensity, and she passed him a small smile before the Seeker practically pounced, springing forth to grab her by the shoulders.

“What do you mean? Are you a demon?!” Cassandra shook her vigorously then, and Vherlin tried to jerk away, stumbling back with fear in her eyes.

“What? No! No! I’m not! I can’t be, I don’t look like them! They’re scary, and I’m not! I’m just me, Vherlin. I’m just Vherlin, not a demon, Vherlin!” She was frantic, and the fact that everything was a dream seemed to escape her in that moment, She was genuinely frightened. Varric stepped between them, and Vherlin flicked her marked wrist, letting her fingers slap together as if she had just been hurt, but the movement was calming and she forced herself to relax while the dwarf stepped in.

“Woah there, Seeker, let’s try to relax. She looks like an elf to me.” He assured, but Cassandra had a suspicious glare settled upon the girl. Vherlin was nodding. _That’s right, I’m an elf!_ She instinctively reached up to brush a hand across her ears, assuring herself that it was true once more. She wondered what her face looked like. Solas had positioned himself closer to her, and she knew just how much his curiosity was probably tearing away at his mind. The man lived and breathed knowledge. It would be unlike him not to be intrigued.

“Alright, what about the demons? She’s a mage with no formal training surrounded by demons.” The Seeker had her hand on the hilt of her weapon, but at least she didn’t seemed inclined to pull it from its sheathe. Solas stepped forward then, dipping his bald head to the human.

“I shall keep an eye on her.” He promised, reaching out to place a hand upon the other elf’s shoulder. Vherlin glanced toward the hand that had been laid upon her, regarding it for only a moment before returning her focus to the Seeker, who had begun moving away, hopefully satisfied.

“We must get to the forward camp quickly.” Was all that she said, before taking off at a brisk pace. Vherlin moved toward the dwarf, hesitantly at first, but her confidence grew when he passed a friendly grin.

“Thank you!” She was quite pleased to be within his presence. He was both friendly and charming, and the crossbow on his back was something to marvel at. She reached out to run her fingers across it and the dwarf didn’t seem to mind her curiosity. “How does it work?” She questioned quietly, more to herself than to the dwarf, but he responded anyways, chuckling.

“It’s a dwarven mechanism, kid. Don’t mind the Seeker by the way, She’s _always_ like that.” He clapped his hand across her arm, nodding his head with encouragement as they moved forward. “You’ve got a strange sense of fashion.” She noticed that he was eyeing her pants, and nodded hastily.

“They’re bats!” Vherlin responded, a bit more loudly than she had intended. Her voice echoed throughout the valley, and she closed her mouth, embarrassed once more. The dwarf didn’t seem to mind. He merely laughed. Behind her, she could practically _feel_ the intense eyes of Solas drilling into her skull. Cassandra had moved ahead a bit, and the much older elf then quickened his stride to fall in step at her side.

“You said you came from the other side of the breach?” He questioned, but unlike the Seeker, there was no aggression in his tone. Merely a desire to learn more about her, and that was fine, she had expected that. She still flushed a bit when he spoke to her. There was a reason she had made her characters romance the guy. He might have been bald, but there was something about his face that struck her as attractive. Her eyes fell to the jawbone necklace that bounced against his chest as they walked on.

“Yes. I had to jump. They were chasing me.” She responded, quickly recalling the shambling corpses that had chased her to the edge of the void.

“Who was chasing you? What did you jump into?” The Dread Wolf pressed, and she smiled at him. Even his voice was attractive, but then, so was Dorian’s. It was too bad Dorian was homosexual; she would have loved to get in with him in one of her play-throughs. The guy was an absolute charm. She wondered if everyone from Tevinter was like him.

“There were…corpses…on fire. They chased be to a cliff, and beneath was the breach. I jumped into it to escape.” She replied. The nightmare was a fresh memory, but it felt as real as ever. She had begun to have her doubts about whether or not she was dreaming but…of course she was. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. Solas was nodding in contemplation.

“Fascinating! And what did you feel, when you jumped into the breach?” He almost sounded excited. It made her want to laugh, but she only managed to push out something akin to a kitten’s mewl. Fitting. Varric chuckled when she made the noise.

“Pain.” Vherlin frowned. It had been a horrible experience, and one that still did not make sense to her. “It felt like my soul was being ripped away from my body.” She reached toward her ears again, before realizing that rubbing them was not the best idea in public. The action seemed to amuse Solas, because he smirked. “And…I-I’m an elf.” She stuttered.

“You weren’t an elf before?” The Elvhen inquired, hardly masking his surprise.

“No. I was human.” Vherlin huffed at that. The answer only brought forth more questions. Varric was peering at her, somewhat cautiously.

“Don’t let the Seeker hear that, kid.” He warned in a quiet tone, and she nodded, because she knew Cassandra would likely just accuse her of being a demon again. Then she would never become the Inquisitor. Hell, she’d probably be killed. Solas looked like he wanted to speak again, but she was faster, reaching out to brush her fingers across his sleeve, tugging at it.

“Wolf…can you feel pain in dreams? Are you supposed to?” She had instinctively called him by his nickname then, the one she so often called him by in the real world, when she had played the game. It was an accident, but she had become so used to ‘Wolf’ as opposed to 'Solas' that the word had managed to slip past her guard. No matter, the dwarf wouldn’t understand the reference anyways. Solas immediately noticed, and his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing towards her, but Vherlin didn’t quite understand the expression that played across his face. She was waiting for an answer. It was a stupid question. If she was in a dream, then she doubted she’d get any sort of decent answer from her companion.

“Do you think you’re in a dream?” Solas questioned, his voice somewhat more quiet than it had been before. Vherlin nodded.

“Yes…yes…It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.” She didn’t see the harm in telling her dreamed up companions that she thought it was all fake to her, but Varric was looking at her strangely then. Solas continued.

“And are you in pain?” He was reaching for her marked hand, and she let him take it, watching as he examined the pulsating mark. It had begun to ache again.

“The mark hurts. I’m tired, and I’m cold, and I’m sore, too.” She told herself it was wrong to complain, but Solas had asked. Suddenly, his hand lit up with a warm glow, and the faint blue light seeped into the scar on her hand, soothing it almost instantly, but it didn’t stop there. The magic arched up her arm, spreading throughout her body, and she smiled at the sudden comfort. The painful bruises that her earlier fall onto the ice had caused seemed to fade from existence, the ache of them falling into oblivion. “Nevermind, I feel better!” She felt rejuvenated. The exhaustion had melted from her limbs, and the sting of the cold had lessened considerably as well. Solas released her hand and she brought it up to her face, observing the flickering of the emerald scar. It seemed to have dimmed. _Of course, the mark belongs to the Dread Wolf, and the guy is walking right beside me._ She had to remind herself of the mark’s origins, then.

They had caught up with Cassandra, who was waiting impatiently near the bridge they were meant to cross, and it was then that she noticed the demons, skirmishing with soldiers near another rift. The Seeker huffed and gestured for the group to hurry, quickly crossing toward the battle with her sword in hand. Solas and Varric rushed after her, leaving Vherlin to remain on the outskirts. She held her staff toward one of the demons, gesturing toward the beast. Her anxiety was boiling over at the sight of another fight, but she attempted to focus on the mana she knew she must have had. She thought of lightning, visualizing it cutting across a stormy sky during a fierce stone, and she focused on it, reached for it. She felt the mana stir within her, and angled it through the staff. The tip of the silver weapon sparked with electricity for a moment, and she thrust outward, aiming to send a powerful bolt through one of the demons. Nothing came, however. The sparks danced for a moment and then faded away like embers. She huffed in frustration, while Cassandra finished her target off.

The monsters were dead, and she was itching with guilt. She had to make herself useful somehow. Vherlin approached the unguarded rift and hesitantly stretched her arm out toward it, willing her mark to snag the opening and seal it closed. There was an emerald flash of light between her and the rift, and she faltered with surprise, before she felt the tug of her skin again, and jerked back. The light of the rift lingered just a moment more before fading. She had done it, all by herself! No help from Solas required, just like her characters had. She squealed with barely contained excitement then, but it quickly melted away into embarrassment when she noticed the faces of her allies. Solas and Varric shared amused expressions, but Cassandra was certainly not in the mood. She sighed, and the group moved on to cross the bridge.

They had a bit of an argument with Chancellor Roderick, and she decided that she definitely did not like the guy. She disliked him then more than she had when she was actually playing the game. Ultimately, it was decided that they would continue up the mountain, charging with the soldiers. The fact that they had given her the decision to make had made her feel as if she was being crushed by a boulder, and so ultimately, she had just squeezed her eyes shut and chose the first option that came to mind. She felt bad about the scouts that she knew would be on the mountain path, but if she charged with the soldiers, she would get to meet Cullen.

And so she did. They traveled up the mountain where she had watched her companions engage within another battle, her still failing to be of any use to them, before finally closing her third rift. As Solas had commented, she was becoming quite proficient at it. She might as well have been, considering the fact that she couldn’t do anything else. Commander Cullen had been…exceedingly handsome. Even his voice was attractive. She found herself blushing considerably as she smiled up at the man, and if he had noticed, he didn’t comment, luckily for her. They moved on toward the charred remains of the temple, and she stopped in her tracks when she noticed the burning corpses. The smell of cooked flesh reached her nostrils, and it made her want to throw up. The bodies looked just like the ones from her nightmare. She couldn’t help the panic that rose within her chest.

“They’ll chase me!” She was backing away, her eyes wide as they settled upon one of the corpses as if expecting it to come alive again. Solas reached out to snatch her by the arm, halting her retreat. Cassandra and Varric were staring, and both of them seemed concerned. _Wonderful._

“Vherlin, they are dead. They will not chase you.” The bald elf was trying to reassure her, but she was shaking her head. _They were dead before, too._ His grip grew tighter when she tried to pull away, and she turned to look him straight in the eyes. It was the first time she had ever done that during their brief time together, and she instantly felt the discomfort that she always experienced from making eye contact. Her eyes dropped to his nose. “Whatever nightmare you were having before, it is over now.” Solas gave her arm a gentle shake. “This is _real_.”

Was it? She couldn’t help but deny his claims, but she wouldn’t argue, not in front of the others. Not in front of Cassandra, who was looking increasingly disturbed. At least Varric seemed sympathetic. She gulped and finally nodded, taking a step toward the ruins. Solas removed his hand from her arm when he realized she was prepared to move on ahead.

“Is there something wrong with her?” The Seeker was obviously still suspicious, and her voice was by no means soft. Solas was the one who responded, and he was cunning indeed.

“Yes. The mark is giving her visions beyond the fade.” He answered with a brief nod. “Once the breach stops expanding, she’ll be fine.” Well that was a blatant lie, but Cassandra seemed suddenly relieved, and that made her feel better, too. They pressed on into the temple, the breach looming above them. It was an alluring sight to behold. She almost felt light enough to slip back through it. It called to her, voices beyond the swirling void, whispering words she did not understand. Leliana came through behind them and after Vherlin gave them her promise that she would do her best to close the breach, they continued onward once more.  

As soon as they reached the bottom level, a vision ignited before them. In a flash of green, she appeared, and the Divine was calling for her help. Corypheus scowled with hatred.

“We have an intruder. Slay the elf.” She had no memory of the fear that must have shot through her, then. In fact, she had no memory of the event at all, though she recognized the scene from the game. Solas explained that what they were seeing were echoes from the fade, before informing her that the rift needed to be opened again before it could be properly closed. She had already known that, so she turned to Solas, leaning closer to whisper in a quiet tone.

“When I open the rift, a massive demon is going to attack us.” Vherlin warned. Solas nodded then, seeming to accept the inevitable. He didn’t bother questioning her knowledge of what was sure to transpire. She reached out, tethering the rift as she had done the others, as she had seen her characters do countless times. She didn’t expect the resistance. It writhed and tugged against her grip and she grunted, struggling as she tore at the rift, peeling it apart. As soon as it burst open, a monstrous demon exploded from the depths of the fade, roaring with absolute fury. She forced herself to ignore it, focusing on the rift instead of the battle taking place just feet away. She felt the weight of Solas’s barrier slip around her again as she fought for dominance against the rift, pulling against her glowing chain.

It wanted to pull her in. It wanted to devour her. It was as if the gaping maw of the fade was hungrily gasping for her body, pleading for her return, back through the breach, back to the world from which she had come from. _No!_ It was hurting again, tearing at her flesh like the press of glowing, molten iron and she screamed. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Was this how her characters had felt in the game? _Characters don’t feel. It was just a game. This is just a dream._ In that moment, her heart fluttered with the sudden realization that she might die. She felt that sensation within her body once more, as the rift jerked at the very essence that filled her mortal form. She could not pull away this time. The rift was sucking her towards it, against her will, no matter her struggles. There was no escape. Suddenly, she was thrown from her feet, rocked by a massive explosion of emerald light, and she felt the tugging upon the mark in her palm, agony receding like a wave, and knew that the rift had been sealed. A second more, and she was engulfed by darkness. Drifting…drifting so far away, not a person, but a shadow, weightless and lost. Would she be lost forever? Was this the end? Would she wonder the emptiness of her unconsciousness for eternity?


	3. Chapter 3

She hadn’t expected to awaken to the warmth of a crackling fire, its glowing radiation casting dancing shadows across wooden walls. This was not her room. The mattress beneath her body was not nearly as soft as the one she often fell into at home.  When she pushed herself into a sitting position, the elven mage moaned with the pain that shot through her muscles, an undeniable ache from her efforts to close the breach. She felt weaker, and exhausted, and her head was ringing with clouds. Vherlin peeled the blankets from her body, noticing that she was missing her clothing. Instead, she was garbed within thick cloth robes, linked with chainmail and tough leather. She supposed it was much better than walking around in her pajamas.

She lifted her head to peer at the door when she heard the creaking of it swinging upon iron hinges. The elven servant that entered the room dropped her box of elfroot with sudden fright, stammering out an apology. Vherlin merely nodded. She knew who the elf was, she recognized her from the game, though she had never understood her fear. As the servant turned and fled, she rose from her bed with a fierce yawn, stretching out her limbs and observing the faint glow of the mark upon her palm. It was dimmer, and the pain had diminished. Despite her dream, it felt as if she had been sleeping for days, and perhaps she had. In a dream, anything was possible. She heard the crowd gathering outside her door, and knew exactly what came next. Stepping out into the light of Haven, she marveled at its beauty. The sky was laced with streaks of twilight, the emerald swirl of the breach still spinning in the sky. She knew it wasn’t completely closed, but it had ceased expanding, and that was definitely a good thing. The earth glittered with a blanket of soft ivory, intricate flakes of sparkling, crystalized water fluttering from scattered dark clouds to tickle the skin of her bare face with a frigid touch. A cold breeze chilled the tip of her nose and ears, rustling her hair with a sensation that made her shiver. Everything felt so…real.

The elf’s few moments of admiration faded away when she noticed the dozens of eyes laid expectantly upon her. Her cheeks reddened with anxiety. She had never felt comfortable within the depths of a crowd, particularly ones who focused their sole attention upon her. Reaching over with her right hand, she clutched at the fabric of her other arm and strode forward, avoiding the gaze of Haven’s townspeople. She heard their whispers, drifting into her senses. They called her a hero, a savior, the Herald of Andraste. She remembered their words, because they had been uttered to her characters plenty of times before. The village was much larger than it had been in the game, she noticed, but her destination still loomed over the cabins.

Vherlin ascended the steps toward the Chantry and was glad for the rush of warmth that greeted her when she swung open the large, wooden doors. Surprisingly enough, they weren’t particularly heavy, and they glided easily across the ground to permit her entry with hardly any effort at all. She heard the arguing in the war room up ahead, and knew what to expect. When she entered, they all turned to stare for a moment, before Chancellor Roderick spoke up once more.

“Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” His voice was harsh, and he remained as stubborn as ever, but Cassandra disregarded the order with a simple gesture, and the arguing continued. Vherlin felt the tug of a smug little grin when it was admitted that Roderick was a suspect in the Divine’s murder, though she was already very much aware of who was truly involved. The Grey Wardens had been there at the command of Corypheus during the ritual, but the sacrifice never would have happened had Solas not given the magister his orb. She supposed there were other ways the ancient tevinter might have gained his power, perhaps there were other Elvhen foci, hidden away? Nevertheless, Corypheus held the orb of Fen’Harel in that moment, and she was determined to give the bald elf the peace of her mind that she was never permitted to within the game itself.

Eventually, everything seemed to quiet down a bit, and her gaze had been wrenched from her thoughts as the Seeker slammed the old book of the Inquisition down upon the table. A plume of dust exploded from the tarnished pages. She resisted the urge to jerk away and cough. The Chancellor retreated in the face of Cassandra’s determination, and after a moment, Leliana spoke up, gesturing toward the old tome.

“This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” For the first time, Vherlin took a moment to analyze the spymaster’s features. Her skin was fair and not entirely unblemished, and her strawberry hair, though tucked beneath her hood, occasionally hung across a cutting and intense gaze. She looked a lot different than she had in Dragon Age Origins, and even within the game of Inquisition itself. She was far more realistic within the embrace of Vherlin‘s dream world, and far more awe inspiring. There was a woman she would strive to be, confident and intelligent. The Inquisition was lucky to have her. Even as she spoke uncertainty, her words were bold. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no chantry support.” Cassandra nodded in response, turning toward the elf, who met her gaze for only a moment before shifting her focus towards the wooden table.

“But we have no choice. We must act now, with you at our side.” The Seeker spoke, and Vherlin took a moment to swallow. Everything was going according to the plot. The only difference was that her characters had all been skilled in combat, while she wasn’t even certain how to correctly hold a staff. Her eyes widened for a moment when she realized the weapon was missing, but then recognition softened her features. She remembered seeing the silver staff resting on the wall within her cabin. She hadn’t processed its presence at the time.

“I will stand at your side, but…how? I cannot fight.” The mage gave her shoulders a slight shrug. She felt a bit more confident in knowing that she was living within a dream, rather than the real world. She certainly didn’t stutter as much, which was undoubtedly a good thing.

“We will teach you.” Cassandra took a step forward, offering Vherlin her hand. With a grin, the novice mage accepted to offer, noting the tightness of the Seeker’s grip. Then the warrior pulled away, and shifted toward the door with Leliana at her side.  “We must prepare. You may do as you wish, in the meantime, but do not leave Haven.” With that, Cassandra stormed out into the main hall along with the red headed rogue, purpose in their strides. Vherlin moved after them, eager to explore the village within her dream state, mesmerized by the beauty of the mountainous world that towered over the town.

The first thing she did was head toward the tavern, slipping inside to examine the structure’s interior. It was warm, the heat of the fire only occasionally relieved by a rush of cold air slipping through the open door.  The smell of food assaulted her nose, and quickly transformed from something pleasant to relish to absolute torment when she realized how hollow her stomach felt. She was starving. 

“Nice to see you again, kid.” She felt a heavy hand brush against her arm and turned to find Varric at her side. The elf grinned, realizing just how fond she was of the dwarf. “Hungry?” He pulled her toward the bar, gesturing toward the man behind the counter. She realized that she didn’t have any sort of currency, and to be quite honest, she was unsure of what they called their coins. Just gold? She was mere seconds away from informing Varric of her predicament before he pulled the money from a pouch at his side and ordered her a bowl of ram stew.

“Wow…thank you.” The genuine words slipped from her mouth and the dwarf merely shook his head with a chuckle.

“Not a problem.” The rogue assured. When the stew was finally placed upon the wooden bar before her, she practically choked with glee, plucking the spoon from where it had been set and eagerly setting her focus upon nothing more than the food near her face. It wasn’t until she began to feel a bit satisfied that she noticed Varric was watching, wearing a grin of amusement upon his features, a tankard gripped within his hand that she could only assume was some kind of alcoholic beverage. She hadn’t even noticed him order it. The dwarf seized his moment to talk again, seemingly eager. “So, how ya holding up? Feeling any better?” He inquired, and she nodded in return, tumbling over her words for a moment before managing to form something understandable.

“Yeah, much better. I’m kind of sore, but nothing else hurts anymore. The mark is okay now, too.” She lifted her hand to thrust it toward the rogue, who examined the emerald scar with obvious curiosity.

“Well, good for you kid. Still feel this this is all a dream?” She practically choked on her food just then, but she recognized the teasing light within his eyes, and wondered if the dwarf had believed Solas’s lie, as well. Did he think that now that the breach had stopped expanding, she would have dropped the strange idea? She hated to disappoint him.

“It is all a dream.” Vherlin persisted, noting that his smile faltered for a moment. Hers did, too. He probably thought she was crazy. Could other people even think, in dreams? Wasn’t she the only one thinking? Perhaps their sentience was all the simple illusion of a peaceful slumber. Varric rose from his stool, then, clapping her on the shoulder with a gentle hand.

“Right, well…I’ve got some things to do, but feel free to swing by later and we can talk again.” The dwarf promised. She had the sinking feeling in her gut that he was ditching her in the tavern because of what she had said. But Varric was a nice guy; surely he would accept her belief, no matter how insane it might have seemed to him? He had always accepted Cole, and the guy was practically a demon. There had always been something comforting about Varric, almost brotherly, but in that moment, the elf couldn’t help but feel paranoid. It was a stupid feeling, she told herself.

Finishing off her stew, she let the barkeeper reclaim the empty bowl and dirtied spoon, before stepping back out into the cold. She moved up the steps toward the alchemist, glancing around for Solas, but the elf wasn’t there. She wasn’t used to being unable to find her companions. They always lingered near their respective locations within the game. Shrugging, she moved down toward Haven’s entrance, where she saw Cullen for the second time during her dream, speaking urgently with another man that she did not recognize. It was just as easy to stand and admire him then as it had been the first time. The unknown man marched quickly away, and Cullen turned his head toward her with a slight smile perched upon his lips.

“Hello there.” He was dressed within the same thick, and frankly flattering armor that he always wore, and Vherlin found herself shifting from her feet, uncertain of how to respond. She managed to wave, and the man let out a quiet laugh. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m rather busy at the moment.” His words seemed friendly enough, and he brushed past her without even a sideways glance, but she turned to watch him leave, analyzing his every movement as he made his way up toward the chantry. She was certain that the future inquisition commander was quite muscular, but she’d probably never know. He never took off the damned armor. Sighing to herself, she managed to gain control over her heartbeat again, and turned back toward the village exit. Instinctively, she turned to her left, heading for the blacksmith.

When she arrived, she kept her distance from the workers that hammered away at the forge and anvil, quietly admiring their crafting. None of them seemed interested in approaching her, as focused as they were, and eventually, Vherlin found herself wandering away again, back past the entrance of Haven and around the frozen lake which glittered coldly, reflecting the ghastly light of the breach that loomed above the mountaintops. She made her way toward the quite expanse of snow covered woodland where she had always hunted rams within the game. There was little more than the brush of the wind to keep her company, however. No rams came into view. Vherlin moved toward the abandoned dock that stretched across the back end of the lake, admiring the shining surface of the icicles that hung from large stones. For the first time since the start of her dream, or nightmare, she began to relax. The quietness of her isolation was as soothing as the purr of a kitten. Running her hands along her knees, she allowed herself to rock from side to side, lazily kicking her feet off the edge of the dock. Closing her eyes, she began to sing.

_“Heart beats fast,_

_Colors and promises,_

_How to be brave?_

_How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?_

_But watching you stand alone,_

_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow…”_

It wasn’t one her favorited songs, but she enjoyed the calming tune as she imagined the beat within her mind. Romance was beyond her personal joys, and she doubted she’d ever feel any real interest in anyone. She just wasn’t interested in people the way others of her age seemed to be. The comfort of a good book was surely as pleasing as the comfort of any man. That didn’t stop her from singing, however. It was one of her favorite things to do.

_“I have died every day waiting for you._

_Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you,_

_For a thousand years,_

_I'll love you for a thousand more.”_

The emotion that was so often put into music was what called out to her the most, more than the tone, or the beat. Without music, she was bland, even somewhat numb, but when she listened to a good song, all the emotions flowed from the singer right into her body, offering her anything from an exciting moment of rage to a mournful sorrow. Caught up in her brief minute of bliss, she didn’t notice the crunch of snow behind her as another entity moved onto the dock.

“A sad song.” The voice observed. She whipped around, exploding with embarrassment. Nobody else ever came out into the wilderness! It was supposed to just be her, and the rams, and the druffalo, but there was Solas, standing over her back, looking down on her with an expression she could not read. If he noticed the new shade of red she had turned, he didn’t mention it. “Where did you learn it?” The Dread Wolf inquired, and he seemed genuinely curious.

“Not from this world.” She replied in a quite tone. He moved to sit beside her, but his features remained stoic.

“Ah. You still believe you are in a dream. There are times where I have considered this myself, but there is always a way to assure oneself of reality.” He responded, and she nodded. Remembering his in-game dialogue, Solas was a dreamer, and on occasion, had been known to struggle in telling the difference between sleep and wakefulness.

“How?” Vherlin questioned, though her voice lingered on the verge of a whisper, as she contemplated the truth of what he was telling her. Solas reached for her arm, and without warning, gave her skin a painful pinch. She jerked her arm away, shifting her head to glare at him, but he leveled her stare without the slightest hint of guilt.

“One does not feel pain in dreams, _da’len_.” He reminded her in a tone that made his reply seem like the most obvious thing in the world. That wasn’t helping the disintegration of her earlier embarrassment. She flushed again. “Cassandra and Varric have expressed their concern for you. I am uncertain as to how this will all play out. I will have to teach you how to cast.” He explained, and she nodded again. Cassandra had already agreed that she would be taught how to defend herself, but Solas was the only other mage in Haven, so she should have expected that he would have been assigned as her mentor. “You claim that you come from the other side of the breach. What was it like?” She had predicted his interrogation, but at least he wasn’t hostile so much as he was simply thirsting for information.

“Dark. Everything seemed endless. The stone was black, and there was a green mist. That was before I jumped through the breach to escape the undead that were chasing me. But _before_ all that, I was just living day to day in the real world.” The woman explained, looking back on the time she had first fallen asleep to drop into the grasp of her dream. It seemed like such a long time ago. Thinking about it made her head tingle with a strange confusion that should not have been present.

“Tell me about this _real_ world.” Though there was little doubt that his words were formed into a demand, at least Solas was lacking the harsh edge of Cassandra’s unyielding voice when she had been questioning her. She didn’t feel imprisoned, or pressed in that moment. She knew she didn’t have to answer. She knew she could simply get up and walk away, if that was what she desired. But she didn’t, partly because she had started to enjoy the presence of the other elf, and partly because denying the Dread Wolf seemed like a bad way to earn his friendship.

“It’s a lot different from this one.” She began, and she had absolutely no idea how she planned to explain it. “For one, there are only humans. No other races.” She had expected him to interrupt there, pointing out that she was an elf and so she had paused, but when Solas remained silent, she continued. “Everything is bigger. Our buildings are massive, like towers with hundreds of windows. We don’t use fire for light because we use electricity to power everything. We don’t really use horses anymore because we have cars…those are like horses but…mechanical and, and much faster, like a hundred times faster! We don’t have dragons either, but we have planes, which are kinda like mechanical dragons, and we can use them to fly over long distances. We don’t have magic, and we don’t use swords, instead, we use guns, which are…” She thought for a moment. “Kind of like Varric’s crossbow, but a lot more powerful, and they don’t shoot arrows; they shoot, like…um, metal stones, sharp ones…” She doubted Solas knew what bullets were. Vherlin expected him to have a look of disbelief settling upon his features, but instead he merely stared, as if truly pondering what she had said.

“That is fascinating, if true.” He finally responded, and a determined look flashed across his features for a moment. She wondered briefly what he had been thinking, then. There was a small stretch of silence between them, and she returned her gaze to the frozen lake. “You called me Wolf.” Solas reminded her, and the atmosphere around them seemed the shift into something a bit more menacing as he probed. She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. It had been a slip of the tongue. For a moment she contemplated what the harm was in telling him. Would he kill her? Did it even matter? She was dreaming, the thought of death should have been a light one. So why, then, was she so suddenly frightened? He was leaning forward now, expectant. There was something unsettling about how he moved, just inches closer, until his presence seemed almost suffocating.

“Dread Wolf.” She finally managed a whisper to the other elf, as if she had been compelled to speak against her own will. Though she avoided looking at him, she imagined him tensing as his title fell into the open.

“Explain yourself.” Was all he responded with, and while his tone was not nearly as ominous as the air around them had grown, there was a certain hardness to the words, as if a slight threat hovered there, between them, waiting to be embraced. She felt the only way to banish the potential hostility was to do as she was told, because if she explained it to him, then it would surely make sense, and in the end she imagined his curiosity for her would overcome any desire to take her life. But wasn’t that just the kind of man he was, to abandon his personal desires to insure the success of his crazed mission to tear down the veil? She got the feeling that it didn’t seem to matter how much mystery surrounded her, if Solas felt that she was a threat, then she would be dead before she could so much as think to scream for help.

“In my world, you’re just a character in a story. You’re not even real. The Inquisition isn’t real. None of this is real.” She was shaking then, because the cold had gotten to her through her robes, and because the silence that stretched between them then was as chilling as the frost on the lake. She stole a glance in his direction, and found his intense glare had settled upon her, as if looking past her flesh and into her very soul. She knew he was deciding her fate, whether she was to live or die. She couldn’t bring herself to look away, but a second later, his pupils fell to her marked hand, where an emerald light pulsed faintly against her skin. _Of course_. He couldn’t kill her. She had the anchor. A sense of security flooded through her body at the realization, and she released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“And this is why you believe all of this to be a dream?” She was surprised when he spoke again, so soon, and she realized just how ominous the silence between them had become. Vherlin dipped her head in response, not entirely feeling the strength to voice her reply. A second later, and Solas pushed himself onto his feet once more, reaching over to secure a powerful grip onto her arm in which to hoist her onto her own two limbs. “It is not.” He stated firmly. “This world is real, and _I_ am real too. You will speak nothing of this to the others.” And by ‘others’, she was certain he was referring to _everyone,_ but she was still alive, and that was something to be somewhat happy about. She hadn’t intended to go around shouting about Fen’Harel anyways. She didn’t even worship the elven gods. Hell, she didn’t worship anyone, she was about as atheist as you could get. Solas’s title did not impress her, though it was somewhat frightening. Perhaps that was why she had refused to confront him about the orb, in that moment. He scared her. Despite his claims that the world around her was not a dream, she couldn’t help but disbelieve him. The ancient elf brushed snow from his robe, before turning to head back toward Haven, but not without some parting words. “Meet me on the lake at dawn, and bring your staff.”

Of course, there was still the matter of her training. She certainly hoped they didn’t intent to send her off to the Hinterlands until she could at least throw a fireball or something. The sky had grown dark during their conversation, though the light of the Breach cast its eerie touch across the valley. She could see enough to make her way back toward the village, surprised by the distance that Solas had managed to put between them so quickly. When she finally made it to the gates, he was gone, and she proceeded toward her cabin, remembering just how tired she actually was. It was cold, and dark, and she had absolutely no idea how to start a fire, so instead she simply curled into the fur blankets and settled into the warmth that slowly began to gather around her body, drifting into the embrace of sleep whilst wondering how exactly that was even possible. Despite the darkness that still rang in Solas’s warning, she hadn’t believed him. None of this could be real. It wasn’t possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is called A Thousand Years, by Christina Perri.


	4. Chapter 4

She was dreaming, a dream within a dream, yet another phenomenon she didn’t know how to explain. None of it should have been possible. She had felt pain, she had felt cold, and she had felt hungry, all things that dreams were not known to project, and in her new dream, she felt as numb and weightless as she should have been in the first place. She walked the streets of New York under a starless night sky, snow drifting from the obsidian void above to gather upon her shoulders. It was her home. Returning there was a pleasant sensation, to see the bustling of the roads again, the thousands of people scurrying like ants throughout the city, vehicles honking with impatient drivers. She felt no anxiety as she moved through the crowd on the sidewalk, hustling past a hotdog stand to turn a corner and emerge within the radiant confines of Times Square. The screens were alight with exotic advertisement as tourists laughed and conversed around her, holding hefty bags of their days’ worth of shopping.

She moved toward the center of the square, her gaze snagging upon a familiar face, bald head, sharp ears, and an icy gaze. He was most certainly not a part of her memory of New York, and her gaze narrowed upon his. She didn’t feel the anxiety she normally would have when he held her eyes within his own. She stood her ground as she approached, and discovered that his lips had curled into a smirk.

“This world is incredible.” The moment he spoke, the entire dream went mute around them, as if it had receded its touch upon her mind and now curled around their bodies, a memory playing in the background. How had he gotten there, invading the sanctum of her innermost thoughts? Could he simply choose to force himself into her dreams whenever he pleased? If that was the case, he wouldn’t see much. She only rarely dreamed, and most of them consisted of nonsense. She attributed the fact that she had just strode calmly through her favorite city without any rampaging dinosaurs to Solas.

“Thanks, but what are you doing here?” Vherlin inquired in a demanding tone, huffing with annoyance. She wasn’t certain that she felt comfortable sharing her memories with the Dread Wolf, even if she was certain that he didn’t actually exist. In the dream, she did not twitch as she normally would, nor did she stutter. She was far more confident than she ever would have been outside the safety of her own mind.

“I wanted to see it for myself.” He explained simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Before she could reply, he was speaking again. “Show me the memory of your leap into the breach.” Vherlin shook her head in response to his words.

“I have no idea how to do that.” She responded, mimicking his tone. It came out as a bit harsh, but Solas did not seem bothered in the slightest.

“Focus on the vision. What do you remember?” He questioned. She closed her eyes, considering his words. She remembered the darkness. It had swirled around her in a choking embrace, everlasting, stretching into the distance, spilling over the cliff and into the void below. The only light emitted within the world was that of a ghastly green mist, dancing around her feet. She remembered the bodies that had sprung into existence around her, their features carved with an eternal hunger, their eyes glowing like embers, flesh peeling and melting from charred bone. She felt Solas brush against her, and opened her eyes to the scene that had shifted from New York to her nightmare. She saw herself there, fright clear upon her expression as the corpses moved toward her. It was like watching a horror movie with herself as the star. Soon she was rushing toward the cliff, hesitant upon the edge as she gazed into the writhing mass below. Solas was tugging her closer to the scene, until they stood mere inches away from her former _human_ self. They watched the woman plunge into the breach below.

She remembered the agony, like her soul was being torn from her very body, but she had been unable to see herself, then. This time, however, she got to watch, as her former self opened her mouth to scream with pain. With wide eyes, Vherlin observed as her body disintegrated within the grasp of the emerald tendrils. When there was nothing left, no skin, or muscle, or bone, she was a spirit of vibrant green, matching the color of the breach itself as it drew her greedily into its depths. The world shifted around her again, though it was not of her own doing. She closed her eyes to avoid the sudden dizziness that accompanied the change, and when she opened them again, she stood by the lake in Haven, Solas still lingering at her side.

“Find what you were looking for?” Vherlin deserved to know that much, after what she had just been forced to watch. Solas was looking at her more intensely than he had been before.

“It would seem that the Breach was so powerful, our world was not the only one affected, but yours, as well, and quite possibly others.” He drew his hands behind his back, his features deepening as he sank into a contemplative meditation. “You might not have been the only one to come through the Breach. Some of the demons we battled could very well have been the remnants of other worlds such as yours.” She shook her head. Demons? How was that possible?

“But I’m not a demon.” Vherlin protested, and Solas responded with a nod of confirmation, a knowing smirk creeping across his features.

“No. You are not. But you _chose_ to leap into the Breach. If there were those that were forced into it, their minds may have been twisted from sentience.” Despite his explanation, it still didn’t make sense to her. At least she understood why she looked like an elf; her human body had practically dissolved before her very eyes. Beyond them, a sliver of pink was beginning to creep along the horizon, and Solas glanced at it for a moment before returning his focus to her. “Do not forget to meet me on the lake when you have awakened.” He reminded, and she felt suddenly confused. They were still dreaming? Before she could consider it further, she was jerked away from the scene, and her eyes shot open as she lurched from the mattress with a heavy breath. Her eyes skimmed the room, and she realized that she was back within her cabin. Strange.  

The room was dark, but her eyes were quick to adjust. She contemplated going back to sleep, but knew that dawn was fast approaching. She wasn’t fond of being late, the simple idea of it was stressing. Vherlin rose to her feet, and moved to dress in something warm. She snatched her staff from where it leaned against the wall and headed out into the dim, early morning light. A shadow moved across her vision, headed out of the village gate, and she immediately recognized him as Solas. It seemed she was not the only one who had objected to sleep. Quickening her steps, she rushed to follow the mage, but he did nothing to acknowledge her presence.

They moved onto the ice, and that was when she remembered how slick the surface would be. She almost cursed aloud for her ignorance as her feet slipped from beneath her and she found herself flat against the frozen lake, a moan of pain parting her lips. She became distinctly aware of the other elf’s snickering and she struggled to push herself back onto her feet. Finally, he offered a hand, which she took with a huff of annoyance. _Took you long enough, asshole._ She was standing again, but walking was another matter entirely. How did Solas stride across the frozen water with such ease? She envied his confidence as he moved across the ice, gesturing for her to follow.

Left foot, right food, one in front of the other, _stop!_ Her leg slipped, but she gave her arms a desperate flail in order to steady herself. She was glad to be wearing boots that almost seemed to _stick_ to the ice, so long as she moved carefully. She’d just have to learn how to walk across the solid water without any clumsiness. Eventually, she managed to make her way toward Solas without much incident, and sighed proudly with her accomplishment. As long as she kept her feet flat, there appeared to be no danger in slipping. Glancing up at Solas’s face, she found his lips stretched into a smirk.

“If you are ready, we can begin.” The elf stated in a tone that lacked any sort of humor, despite his expression. A moment later and he had dropped to his knees, meeting her gaze as if to suggest that she follow his lead. Vherlin did as she was expected, and settled down into a sitting position alongside him, tucking her staff across her lap. “Close your eyes.” The wolf ordered in a quiet tone, and she complied. For a moment, the only sound between them was that of their steady breathing, and the cold breeze that made her shiver. She found herself relaxing in the darkness behind her own lids. “What do you feel?” She nearly jumped as the voice of Solas shattered the peace that had been established, but she kept her eyes shut, and focused on a reply. The air was frigid, biting at her flesh through the thick robes she wore.

“It’s freezing.” She responded, her tone as gentle as his had been, as if they both feared that there would be consequences for speaking too loud in such a serene environment. The sun was beginning to crawl its way past the jagged horizon, streaks of gold mingling with the green of the Breach to cast an eerie dawn across the landscape.

“I’d imagine the cold is quite uncomfortable for you.” The ancient elf broke the quite once more. She nodded, knowing that his eyes were lingering upon her features, though she could not see him. Her eyes were still closed. “Do you remember what it was like to feel warm?” He inquired, and she dipped her head again, longing for the joy of a blaze. “Do you remember the cackling of a fire? Do you remember the heat that surged from it?” _Oh yes._ She could picture the flames within her mind, hungry tongues of a searing orange inviting her to come closer, to linger within its light. “Focus on it. Reach for it.” Solas urged, as if he had been reading her thoughts. She gave the imagined flame all of her attention then, ignoring the frost that licked at her clothing. She knew the fire would warm her if she got close enough. She reached out, and let her fingers glide across the flickering gold, allowed the heat to chase the cold away. Something stirred within her, pressing into the blaze, and her hand flared with fire as the light was torn from her imagination and conjured into existence. Vherlin’s eyes snapped open to gaze upon the small flame that danced within her palm.

“Solas!” She barked with excitement. Though the blaze hovered dangerously close to flesh, it did not burn as one might expect it to. After a moment, she felt whatever she had used to fuel the fire start to diminish, and it was then that she recognized her own mana. She focused on cutting off the flow, and promptly extinguished the fire.

“Well done.” Solas praised, and for a moment, Vherlin felt a bit of embarrassment. She was learning how to do things that a young child gifted with magic could have done with relative ease. It was somewhat disheartening to think about, and so she pushed the thought aside. She was practically a child within the world of Thedas, anyways, despite her general knowledge of it from the games. Surely Solas would understand her predicament and refrain from judging? He certainly didn’t bother mentioning such facts to her, as they continued on with her training. They spent the next four hours on the lake, with the Dread Wolf explaining to her the basics of elemental magic, mana, and the dangers of losing her focus, which had been a bit disheartening because she was exceedingly easy to distract. The sun had climbed its way into the sky, chasing away the early morning grey, and by the end of their session hunger was gnawing at her stomach. Vherlin was greatly pleased when Solas rewarded her efforts with a fulfilling breakfast in the tavern. They sat at one of the tables, side by side, strangely relaxed.

“You are a quick learner. We made more progress than I had expected this morning.” Solas offered her a pat on the shoulder, but she felt somewhat uncomfortable by the words. She wasn’t as quick a learner as he had perceived, she knew. Often, she had to learn things over and over, until they became so repetitive that it would be impossible to forget. She could only hope to remember everything he had taught her that morning, though she was determined to do so.

“Thank you for teaching me, and for feeding me.” Vherlin couldn’t help but feel like she owed the man a debt. Solas merely shrugged her gratitude away.

“Your training is a serious matter, as is keeping you healthy. So long as you continue to show an enthusiasm for what I have to teach you, I will continue.” The Elvhen promised. “Tell me; are you aware of the meaning behind your name?” He inquired, and there was an amusement flickering across his face that she found easy to recognize. What kind of question was that, and why was he so humored by it?

“Vherlin…it means feline, or cat. Is this not correct?” Her eyes widened with a sudden fear, anxiety increasing the pace of her heart as she whipped her head around to face him. The food she had just eaten rose in her throat as she waited for him to reply. Had she mistranslated? For a moment she was terrified that her name meant something horrible or inappropriate. What if she had accidently dubbed herself ‘Penis’, or something similar? The very thought nearly gave her a heart attack, and it didn’t help that Solas had begun to chuckle, clearly noticing her frantic reaction.

“Kitten.” He finally responded, waving his hand dismissively as if it would wipe her stress away. “It means kitten. But do not worry, it is fitting.” She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but at least her translation of Vherlin had been somewhat correct, although ‘Kitten’ was still a bit embarrassing. It certainly didn’t sound as fierce or as graceful as ‘feline’, which was what she had been going for. Vherlin sighed, wondering if Solas had been judging her since the time she had introduced herself to him. The thought was certainly not a comforting one.

“Well Solas means pride!” She shot back at him, hoping to defend what composure she had left, but his grin didn’t waver, and he merely nodded.

“You got that right, at least.” The older mage offered, clearly unoffended, not that she had expected him to be otherwise. The Dread Wolf rose from his chair shortly after their exchange, sighing as his amusement faded. “Meet me on the lake again this afternoon, and we will continue your training.” And with that, he departed, leaving her alone in the warmth of the tavern. She had no idea how to tell time without a clock, so she decided to hang around the lake and wait for her mentor to show himself again. When she exited the tavern, she immediately angled herself toward the gate and headed out into the wilderness once more, walking toward the logging stand that she knew existed there. She moved past the small clearing and through the pines, eventually coming across the bare stretch of snow where a small herd of druffalo pawed at the ground, grazing on whatever sparse vegetation they could find.

Vherlin found a rock nearby and dusted it clean before settling down upon it, observing the lumbering beasts go about their morning. It was quiet asides from their grunts and hoof beats. In the silence, she couldn’t help but feel paranoid; glancing over her shoulder to insure that there was no lurking predator watching her from the woodland. In the game, there had been no such dangers lurking around the village, but she had come to learn that her dream did not follow the same script. _Dream?_ She had to remind herself that it wasn’t real, but a doubt had seeded itself within her mind. Solas had been right, of course, if she were dreaming then she wouldn’t have felt the cold. She wouldn’t have experienced hunger, or suffered from pain, and yet she had. She was living within the confines of a _video game_. It was difficult to imagine Dragon Age as a reality, and yet there she was, weathering the difficulties of the land like any other would have. What if it wasn’t a dream? It had felt like weeks since the day she had settled into the bed of her college dorm. She should have awakened days ago… _days_. She knew time moved differently in dreams, but it felt so real.

The idea was both frightening and glorious at the same time. She had always hated her life. Her family wasn’t particularly supportive or kind, in fact, they had made her life absolutely miserable. She knew that depression plagued her mind like a disease, and she hardly possessed the motivation to continue to fight her way through college, even though she had determined the necessity. Since her time arriving within Thedas, she had felt happier, weightless, but it had all been because she believed to be wrapped within a dream. She had always denied the idea that the world she sat in, in that moment, was real. But doubt had wormed its way into her mind, and it assaulted her with all the pressures of her former life. If it wasn’t a dream…how could she hope to survive? The world would treat her more cruelly than the last, and she had barely managed to live each day without contemplating the release of death, and yet, as she considered the differences she would have to endure, she couldn’t help but feel the intensity of an overwhelming sorrow. What had happened to her, in the real world, if it could even still be called as such?

What if it had all been fake? She had never felt as if she belonged on Earth. Everything around her had always felt so…imaginary, and she often entertained an idea similar to the matrix. She had been an alien in her own world, an outcast. Was it possible that that she had been living a dream all along, and that the breach had finally awakened her to reality? The idea seemed like perfectly practical one, and yet… _and yet_ …it still seemed so impossible. Just like Earth, nothing in Thedas felt real, either. She looked around and saw a video game, not a reality. Would she ever truly belong? Was she Emily, or Vherlin?

Her hands fidgeted as she began to suffocate under the anxiety her thoughts had presented her with. She barely noticed the crunching of snow as something moved up behind her, and practically leaped out of her skin with fright as hot, humid breath rolled down her neck. Vherlin spun, tumbling from her perch on the rock and onto the soft, frozen earth below. She nearly screamed when she saw a massive beast leaning over her trembling frame, its nose moving to hover above her face as it drew in curious breath. She realized, almost instantly, that the creature was a ram, recognizing the coloring of its thick, shaggy coat. Dark eyes locked upon hers, the depth of emotion within large pupils causing Vherlin to huff with surprise.

She certainly hadn’t expected the animal, or any animal, for that matter, to approach her, and yet he (she glanced over to clarify the gender) didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned by her presence. Strange. In the game, the rams had fled at the sight of any of her characters, but she supposed their behavior was justifiable, given that she had often slaughtered them for leather. Reaching up with a hand, the ram barely flinched when she hesitantly ran her fingers along its snout, a small grin creeping across her face. If there was anything in the world that could make her happy, it was the animals. She once had a cat, but was not permitted to bring it onto the college campus. It had been a shame, because her cat was the only cure to her depression. Had the ram sensed her distress and sought to comfort her? It was a long shot, but she could think of no other explanation.

Vherlin lifted herself into a sitting position and took the creature’s head into her arms for a gentle hug. The beast accepted the gesture with a low whistle, lifting its chin when she finally released it. He nudged her with his nose as she brushed snow from her knees and stood. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of movement. Was it another ram, come to join the first? Perhaps they wanted food, but unfortunately, she had none to offer. The massive beast in front of her jerked its head away, suddenly alert as it searched the trees, and, detecting a disturbance nearby, it turned and bounded away.

Suddenly worried about the idea of a predator again, she whirled to find herself facing an elven man who stood just feet away with an observant gaze. It was Solas. Had he followed her again, or had he merely been nearby? Perhaps she was the one who had interfered with his peace, that time, unlike the last. For a moment he remained silent as if pondering something, before he began to move forward once more.

“Fascinating.” The word fell into the open air, where it lingered, for a moment, with no response. What could she say? Vherlin assumed the old mage was referring to the ram that had approached her. She opened her mouth to question him, but Solas cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Come with me, it is time to continue your training.” With that he turned away, and began to walk back towards the lake, leaving her to follow and wonder what exactly had been on his mind. They moved onto the ice once more, and she found it a bit easier to balance then, much to her relief. He spent the next few hours attempting to coach her on channeling mana through her staff, alongside her element of choice. They quickly discovered her love of fire. Burning things turned out to be a wonderful outlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, this won't be as serious as my other fics. This fic is like...my vacation from the other, much more depressing ones lol.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next several days, she continued to train on the lake with Solas, as well as within his own cabin in which he eagerly walked her through history and information on the fade. The Inquisition had continued to grow. Cullen had officially earned his title as Commander, and spent his days training the new recruits that they had managed to gather, setting up a camp just outside the village walls. Varric hunted the prey in the surrounding wilderness, catching a fair price for the meat and pelts he would often return with. The dwarf had even given her a nickname, which was decidedly less ironic than him calling Solas ‘Chuckles’. He called her ‘Squeak’, for the noises she so often emitted, most of which he considered cute. Vherlin had often hoped that her ram friend would be spared from the cunning rogue’s arrows. Josephine had checked in on her on occasion, but was typically too busy to leave her office, and their newly named spymaster was in a similar predicament. Slowly but surely, the Inquisition was becoming a decent force of power, and Haven had begun to feel quite crowded under the weight of all the newcomers.

When she wasn’t training with Solas, Vherlin was being taught by the craft masters on how to craft armor and weaponry, as well as mix potions. She learned how to properly gather the surrounding elfroot and iron, and had finally begun to make her own small living by selling the ingredients she managed to get her hands on. She no longer had to rely on Solas or Varric’s kindness for her meals, and that certainly made her feel proud. She had been practicing with a small, offensive fire spell which she could use to kill the nugs that lived around Haven; selling their corpses to the merchant Varric had introduced her to. She had even managed to craft a small iron dagger, which she wore on her hip with delight, eager to show off her accomplishment to her companions. Cassandra had been kind enough to teach her how to care for the horses, as well as ride them. That lesson had been her favorite of them all. She adored the horses, and riding one had been an absolute delight. The Seeker still seemed rather suspicious of her at times, though. Vherlin was happy the warrior wasn’t acting hostile anymore, despite her frequent trips to Solas in which to pester him with questions about her.

Her depression barely had the time to maintain its grip, though it would still, on occasion, gain an advantage over her. Her anxiety had maintained its presence easily enough, but chatting with Varric and Solas did wonders to soothe her worries. Varric was a charming and passionate friend, while Solas often had his nose in the air, but he gave his advice freely and without spite, and she loved him for it.

When next the pair gathered on the lake, Vherlin realized, with some amount of distress, that their training had drawn a crowd. It was distracting, to say the least, but Solas had shifted from gentle mentor to relentless combatant in an instant as he coached her on casting and maintaining a barrier. His staff whipped through the air to crack across her shoulder with enough strength to make her grimace with pain. There would certainly be a bruise there in the morning.

“You must ignore them. Your enemies will take every small opportunity they can to kill you. If you lose focus during an attack, you’re as good as dead.” His firm voice demanded her attention, and Vherlin nodded, biting her lip as she attempted to disregard the stinging of her assaulted shoulder. She did not have her staff to defend herself from his swipes and swings because he had insisted that she did not need it to cast a barrier. Little had she known that he intended to force her into a merciless beat down. She could tell that he was still holding back, to some degree. His strikes weren’t hard enough to cause too much suffering, but she got the message well enough. When next he struck, Vherlin scrambled out of the way, sprinting away to avoid the onslaught. She heard his call behind her, demanding her to cease her efforts. “Do not run from me! Cast your barrier!” Solas snapped, and there was a slight hint of irritation within his tone that she had no wish to toy with.

When he began to advance toward her once again, she forced herself to remain still, desperately recalling what he had told her at the beginning of their session. She had to draw her mana around her like a shield, molding magic into a physical and unbreakable force. Her legs braced against the ice, and she was itching to flee, panting from fatigue. She wondered with despair how obvious her cowardice had become to the entire Inquisition. She had to stand her ground, or they would lose all the faith they had been placing upon her. She was supposed to be their Herald of Andraste, their savior, but if she couldn’t face a training exercise, how could she survive a real fight? _No!_ She wouldn’t back down again. She couldn’t. The fear of failure was greater than the fear of the pain.

When next he attacked, shining staff arching through the air toward her slender frame, she channeled her determination into her mana, and it swirled around her with a sapphire glow. She didn’t feel the pain as the weapon came down upon her. It bounced away as if deflected by a shield, the force of it absorbed by the magic that she had drawn in a tight shroud around her body. Solas struck again, and once more she held her ground, flinching as the staff slammed into what should have been her skull, but the magic cast the weapon away with ease. Finally, it seemed he was satisfied. The elf stepped away from her, lowering his staff, and she allowed the barrier to dissipate with a tired grin.

“Well done.” Solas praised with a nod of his head. “We are done for today, go and get some rest.” With that, he turned away and began to head back toward Haven. The crowd began to dissipate when they realized their training had finished. Vherlin was more than happy to oblige his request by rushing toward her cabin for a long awaited nap, but before she could enter the village gates, Leliana reached out to snag her by the arm. Vherlin’s disappoint was obvious.

“You’re needed in the Chantry. Cassandra is waiting for us.” The scarlet haired spymaster reported. Vherlin sighed, but nodded with acceptance, following Leliana through the town and toward the large building that loomed over their heads. As they drew close to the war room, she recognized the voice of Cullen and the Seeker. She entered with Leliana, and the trio turned toward her with their greetings. It wasn’t long before Josephine had entered the room as well. With all of the advisors gathered, they began to discuss the future they were presented with.

Ultimately, she and her companions were to travel to the Hinterlands, to speak with Mother Giselle and help the refugees caught between the warring mages and Templars. Vherlin already knew how things would go, as it seemed the plot was progressing quite nicely. She had never realized just how much content the game itself skipped ahead of until she had actually begun living the life of the Herald.

“Well? Are you up to it?” Cassandra broke through her thoughts, clearly wondering on just how well her combat skills had progressed. Vherlin contemplated a reply for a moment. Was she? She had learned to cast a few offensive spells, as well as a barrier, but she still struggled with maintaining her focus. In addition to that, the idea of a real threat was not a good one. But it had to be done. They had to go to the Hinterlands.

“I can do it, Cassandra.” Vherlin gulped in reply. And so it was agreed, they were to leave at first light the next morning, and travel down the mountain towards their destination. Before she could leave the Chantry, she was once again pulled to the side by Leliana.

“There’s one other thing.” The rogue shifted, as if with uncertainty, before describing the disappearance of the Grey Wardens. It had come as a bit of a surprise to Vherlin, who hadn’t been expecting such dialogue until a bit later on in the story. She quickly agreed, knowing just where to look to find the so called Blackwall, though she did not bother to mention that the poor guy wasn’t even a real Grey Warden. It would probably be best not to expose Thom.

After what seemed like forever, after dusk had crept over the mountains, Vherlin was finally able to make it to her cabin. She fell into bed with nothing short of relief, quite proud of her achievements so far, but a vicious doubt hung over her mind like a menacing storm cloud. Tomorrow they would leave to the Hinterlands, where she would face _real_ danger, real threats to her life. She would have to kill people…could she even do that? Confusion and despair seized her body like demons. She couldn’t just murder people; they were different than animals and monsters! They were people, no matter how bad! Wouldn’t killing them make her a murderer, just as they were? She would become no better than those she slaughtered. Did it even matter? Was any of it even real? What if she got there, and hesitated and one of her companions perished as a result of her mistake? She’d have to kill herself, then, to avenge her fallen comrade. She wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the weight of the responsibility.

For the first time in weeks, tears welled within her eyes to slide down her cheeks. There had been plenty of frustrating moments during her time in Thedas in which she had wanted nothing more than to break down and sob, but the fear of being seen as weak, or otherwise pathetic had caused her to hold back such emotions. Now she realized that they had been bottled up and growing inside of her ever since she had arrived, and in that moment her body was wracked by all the pain, and fear, and stress that she had forced herself to disregard.


	6. Chapter 6

She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, but it had certainly happened because she was aroused from her slumber by a loud knocking on her door.

“Hey Squeak, you ready? We’re leaving soon.” It took her a moment to recognize the voice as Varric’s, but the moment she did, realization hit her like a truck. Vherlin tore herself away from the bed, rushing to prepare herself for the trip that lied ahead.

“One moment, meet you by the gate!” She answered, and the dwarf seemed content enough to saunter off. She managed to dress within minutes, grabbing her staff before rushing out the door. She found Solas, Cassandra, and Varric awaiting her at the village exit alongside their horses. She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. How long had they been waiting for her? As she approached, Cassandra handed her the reigns of a chestnut and Vherlin swung into the saddle of her sturdy mount. Solas reached over to hand her a few slices of bread and cheese, which she accepted graciously. Vherlin wasn’t fond of either food item, but the tavern wasn’t open, and they had to be out of the mountains by the afternoon to insure they made good time.

Several minutes later, after a few cautionary warnings and farewells from Leliana and Cullen, who had rushed to intercept them, and they were trotting along the road that would lead them to their destination.

For the first few hours, they traveled without incident, engaging in idle chatter. Then the bear appeared. It had been lumbering among the pines when it spotted them, snarling at the approaching group. Vherlin tensed. Bears were fierce and relentless opponents in the game, and lower level characters didn’t stand much of a chance. She briefly wondered what level she was, before realizing just how stupid such a thought sounded. Unlike the game, the massive beast didn’t charge for them to lunge with tooth and claw. It curled its lip with aggression, but otherwise remained where it was. With a wave of Solas’s hand, a lightning bolt cut through the trees to strike the snow mere inches away, and the bear recoiled, whirling to flee deeper into the evergreen forest. Relief spread through the group, and they continued onward.

It took them most of the day to reach the Hinterlands, but there was no mistaking the lush valley that stretched before them. They had finally made it to the Inquisition camp, and Vherlin couldn’t feel happier, in that moment. They met with their dwarven scout, who described the situation to the group, before they had settled into the tents for the night.

Scout Harding woke them fairly early, and Vherlin inwardly groaned, because she knew it would be a long and stressful day. It was the moment she had been dreading. They gathered around the fire to share breakfast, preparing for the day that stretched ahead of them. For a moment, she remained silent; staring into the flame as she contemplated how she would handle the situation she knew she would be faced with. Vherlin flinched when she felt a hand rest upon her shoulder, and glanced up into the face of their archer, Varric.

“You alright?” The dwarf questioned, but his tone was gentle, as if he was worried about probing too much. Vherlin cradled her legs to her chest, resting her chin upon her knees. Her eyes found the hungry depths of the fire again, as she contemplated a response.

“I’m fine.” Was all she managed to push out after a moment of deliberation. How could she possibly admit to them that she was afraid of killing the people she knew would be trying to murder them as they attended to the refugees? And yet, did they not deserve to know that she would be placing their life in danger, due to her cowardice? She sighed, conflicted. “It’s just that…” She needed to tell them. They had to know. Their lives were on the line. “I…I don’t think I can…kill people.” Vherlin finally managed to spit it out. _Here it comes. Their anger. Their disdain. They’re going to hate me and I deserve it because I’m basically just a waste of time and space, and I certainly don’t deserve to be the so called Herald._ She was surprised when Varric’s hand began to rub her back, as if he were trying to comfort her.

“Hey Squeak? …Don’t worry about it. Some of these men have done…horrible things, and will continue to do horrible things. If we don’t stop them, who will?” Vherlin contemplated the dwarf’s words, but they didn’t offer much comfort. She shook her head. It didn’t matter that they were bad people…they were still people, and if she killed them, she would be a murderer as well. You couldn’t justify bad with more bad. Two wrongs did not make a right. Solas moved to sit beside her, his expression solemn.

“Have these people not been given enough chances? They murder, rape, and pillage for their own amusement. Neither side care who they hurt anymore. The mages will hunt and kill anyone that is not on their side, as will the Templars. _People_ have feelings. _People_ know the difference between right and wrong. _People_ do not take innocent lives without any cause other than some sick and sadistic glee. Vherlin, these are _not_ people. They are _monsters_ , and we have to stop them before they cause more harm.” The elf was staring at her, but while his features were firm, his gaze was soft, and she felt herself relax a bit. His words had been enough to make her understand that one thing was for certain. The war in the Hinterlands had to be stopped. Innocent people were suffering, and they didn’t deserve it.

“Just don’t look them in the eyes.” The voice of Cassandra, who had been listening nearby, offered in a quiet tone. Vherlin nodded to herself. She definitely wouldn’t be looking her enemy’s in the eyes. She didn’t want to risk seeing something… _human_ within them.  If she was truly to become a killer, she wanted to do everything in her power to dissociate herself from her brutal actions. After a few more quiet moments stretched between them, the Seeker stood. “We should get going.” The warrior stated simply, shifting the sword that hung from her hip. The others agreed, and rose from their positions in the grass. Vherlin stayed in the back of the group, knowing what was to come, and dreading it.

When they reached the village where the refugees had attempted to flee, she couldn’t help the anger that swelled within her chest at their condition. Most were badly wounded, and yet they had done nothing more than try to escape the fighting between the mages and Templars, who didn’t seem to give a shit about who was caught in the middle of their foolish brawl. As the group rushed into the fray to assist the Inquisition soldiers trying to protect the refugees, they quickly became the primary targets of the skirmish.

Cassandra leapt into action, dragging her shield from her back to lure their opponents in reach of her blade. Varric loaded and fired his powerful crossbow in an enchanting rhythm. Solas maintained a barrier upon the team whilst whipping up a deadly frost from the air. Vherlin lingered among the outskirts, her staff in hand, holding her breath as she struggled on what to do. The Templars were attacking her friends, and she was being a pitiful coward! She forced her anger, toward herself and toward her enemies, into her mana, drawing on the power of fire just as she had been taught. Embers danced along the end of her staff and she swung it toward one of Cassandra’s opponents, and a fireball whipped through the air, slamming into the fully armored Templar.

The man immediately fell to his knees, and he was _screaming_ in what she could only assume was pure agony. _What have I done?_ She felt the taste of bile in her mouth, and she wanted to puke. Cassandra ran her sword through her target’s throat, and he fell to the Seeker’s mercy, limp and lifeless. Vherlin forced herself to swallow. She forced herself to breath, and focus, just as Solas had shown her, but it wasn’t working! Her heartbeat thrummed against her chest, and she felt a stabbing ache developing there as her breath quickened in panic. _I can’t do it! I can’t! I’m useless because I can’t do it!_ Killing people in the game had been so simple…she had never bothered to sit back and think about her actions. Now the thought of it was tearing her apart. _He was screaming…_

The world around her had gone mute. She felt numb as she swung her staff around again, forcefully angling it toward another mage who was casting toward the Seeker. Another ball of flame arched from her magic, fueled by her mana, and she watched the blaze envelop her target, and yet… Vherlin found that she couldn’t quite process the scene that played out in front of her. Another thrust of her staff, another enemy dead. Rinse and repeat. What was she doing? _I’m killing them._ Vherlin faintly answered her own question. _I have to do it. I have to._ Her mana swelled around her, and she glanced for another opponent, her knuckles turning white from the tight grip she had on her staff. She felt strangely locked into place, as if her only purpose was to wait, and watch, and kill. When no other enemy’s came into sight, she simply stared into the distance, waiting…

Was someone calling for her? The world was shrouded in silence, asides from the furious beating of her heart and the blood that roared in her ears. Did she need to breathe, too? _Yes._ She reminded herself, and Vherlin took in a shuddering breath. She could have sworn someone was trying to communicate with her…they sounded so distant, like echoes in the back of her subconscious. _Sorrow, sorrow, drifting upon the wind like a feather, almost weightless. Sorrow. Was I sorrow? Sorrowful? A feather. Drifting…_ But the faint noise was becoming more persistent, more frantic, and she found herself frowning with slight irritation. _Hush. I am watching. I am waiting. I am killing. Sorrowful. Sorrow._ She willed silence upon the world once more.

And then it all shattered, like glass, when something hard gripped her shoulder and _shook_. Sound, too much sound, all rushing toward her like a flood, too much light, piercing her eyes, too many smells, of charred flesh and spilled blood. Vherlin let out a wail of distress and collapsed, caught within the arms of whoever had been gripping her. There was a rush of air against her ear as gentle words flowed into her mind. _It’s alright_ , _Vherlin, it’s over now. Vherlin? It’s okay. Look at me, please!_ That voice…she knew that voice. His name was Solas and he was there, right there, at her side. She raised her eyes to meet his own, and they seemed so…worried. That was okay. She was worried too. _Discomfort on my cheeks…must be tears..._ Vherlin pressed her head into his shoulder and sobbed.

She didn’t know how long she had remained there, tucked within his embrace. She sniffed and opened her eyes, lids heavy, lifting her head from where she had rested it against the other elf. For a moment, she seemed confused as she attempted to gather herself and her surroundings. Varric was hovering over them, his expression one of obvious concern. Cassandra was missing. She had probably gotten tired of the pathetic display. _Pathetic…worthless._

“Vherlin. How do you feel?” She had leaned back, away from Solas’s arms, sitting back on the grass, and now the so called Dread Wolf wanted to know about the turmoil that had erupted within her head? _I feel like a waste of space. I feel pitiful. I feel disgusting. I feel stupid. I hate myself._ Vherlin was certain the other mage could not read minds, but she couldn’t help but feel suspicious as she watched his frown deepen.

“I’m fine.” Vherlin finally managed to speak. She was looking for the Seeker again. “Where’s Cassandra?” They were still on the outskirts of the village. The corpses were still in the same place they had fallen. She felt sick again.

“She’s speaking with Mother Giselle. We’re going to head back to camp and she’ll meet us there.” Varric responded. His tone was quiet; as if he were worried he might frighten her. The thought brought a surge of frustration to her mind. _Stop! I’m not a baby! I can’t be, I have to do this!_ She shook her head.

“No. We press on. There are refugees in need of our help and a war that needs to be stopped. We have to close the rifts that have opened, and we have to secure horses for the Inquisition, and we have to find the Grey Warden.” She forced herself to sound firm, wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. She couldn’t afford to be babied.

“You sure about that, Squeak?” The dwarf inquired, and Vherlin nodded quickly in confirmation. Solas grabbed her by the arms and stood, lifting her alongside him. She pulled away, desperate to reestablish some amount of her composure.

“She is right. There is much to do.” Solas agreed, and she was glad to have his support. Cassandra would likely agree as well. Looking toward the village, she found she Seeker moving toward them, and the warrior didn’t hesitate to explain what Mother Giselle had said about turning the Chantry to the Inquisition’s side of the coin. Cassandra didn’t probe Vherlin’s state of mind, which proved to be quite a relief as they moved on.

The next fight was easier. She didn’t look at the _people_ she intended to kill; she merely saw the targets she was aiming for. She wasn’t certain how she felt about the numbness that had taken hold of her mind. It was like living in a cloud. The others had grown uneasy in her presence, because they knew that something was horribly wrong and they couldn’t help with it, because any concern they tried to show was reflected with an irritated response or ignored.

“Just leave me alone!” She had huffed, as her companions tried to offer her the comfort they thought she needed. When they complied, a tense silence fell over the party. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas POV of events so far.

She had come from the Breach. The very idea of it was both intriguing and worrying, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse as he sat next to her unconscious form, of which often twitched with pain and discomfort. Her glowing palm lay across his lap as he studied it with vexation. He knew well enough that the scar carved into her flesh bore a shard of his own power, too great for a mortal to wield. She wouldn’t understand it, and in time, it would consume her and it was _his_ fault. Just another mistake. He felt foolish, each time he looked at the swirling mass of emerald in the sky, because he _knew_ it was his fault. The damned magister should never have lived through the blast, and yet he had, extinguishing countless innocent lives and damaging plenty more. Despite the fact that he viewed the inhabitants of the world as little more than tranquil, he knew it wasn’t fair. It was _his_ fault. They didn’t deserve to suffer for it, and yet inevitably, they would. They already had.

Solas had felt a glimmer of hope when she had closed her first tear in the fade, and knew immediately that she would be the one to seal the breach. He was still far too weak to consider doing it himself, and he needed his foci, which Corypheus still possessed. Reclaiming his orb was a top priority. Without it, completing his journey would be far more difficult, and he could hardly abandon the world to the magister _he_ had empowered. It was unfortunate, however, when the young woman admitted to having no experience in magic, despite the obvious sense of mana that danced so strongly around her slender frame. She was powerful, more so than most and she didn’t have the slightest idea. That made her quite dangerous. He’d have to remedy that, for his sake, and others. Solas assumed that his anchor was fueling the inexperienced mage, as if his mark of magic allowed her to completely disregard the veil and reach straight into the fade…and that was exactly what it did. Without proper training, Vherlin, as she was strangely called (and he found great amusement in the translation of her name), was a disaster waiting to happen. He’d have to train her.

She was strange, unlike most others he had met. She guarded herself as if fighting off the very world around her, and he could see the paranoia and anxiousness that made her body rigid with stress. She uttered strange noises that he was certain she wasn’t even aware of herself doing, and twitched and fidgeted with what he could only assume to be a persistent discomfort. She claimed to have come from another world, and was entirely unused to the workings of an elven body, he had noted, watching her caress a sharpened ear with an amused smirk crawling across his features. He knew of the pleasant sensations that could be conjured with a simple caress. Hopefully she realized that such a public display of such gestures, particularly around other elves, would be most inappropriate. Otherwise, he’d have to inform her of it later, which he was certain would make her most uncomfortable.

He was curious as to the workings of her other world, and didn’t disregard the truth of what the others might deem nonsense quite so quickly. He knew the fade stretched endlessly, and the possibility of such places did not seem entirely impossible. He couldn’t help but wonder; whilst Cassandra had made her aggressive display…she _had_ come from the other side of the Breach…she had come from the fade. He would certainly make inquiries about this alternate world later, after the immediate threat of the Breach had passed.

She had called him ‘Wolf’, though for what reason, he did not know. His first thought had been one of paranoia. Did she know? How could she? It was entirely possible that she had merely named him after the jawbone pendant he wore, but he couldn’t allow the matter to drop so quickly. He’d have to confront her about it later, far from prying eyes. Solas needed to know if the woman was a threat to him or not. It was imperative that his identity remained a secret, particularly given his place in current events.

After she had stabilized the Breach, Vherlin had been drained of most of her strength. Battered and bruised, she grew feverish over the watchful eyes of the village healer, along with his own. His healing magic was far superior to the potions that the alchemist often used to stabilize her condition whilst she slumbered. Solas also visited her dreams. Most of them turned out to be jumbled nonsense, but he could pluck the chords of her memory like a harp, playing out the moments of her life with striking detail. His curiosity often got the better of him when he found scenes that were so deeply buried; she was likely attempting to smother them. And yet they lingered, silent traumas in the back of her mind, a constant reminder of her past abuses. It certainly explained some of her odd behavior. She feared abandonment, failure, and often felt lost, drifting through the world like she was entirely worthless. She was an outcast among her own race, because she didn’t fit in, she _couldn’t_. Solas did feel some pity for her.

When he realized the wreckage of her past, he had abandoned the deeper memories for more modern ones, only to discover that they, too, were laced with pain. The poor woman hardly had an ounce of happiness in her life. His efforts were rewarded, however, with glimpses of the world he found himself absolutely fascinated with. Her dreams became a drug, and he was thoroughly addicted. Structures like no other reaching into the sky, technology the people of Thedas could never have dreamed of, a culture far more diverse than that of his own world. He would continue to explore, though he would be a bit more careful to avoid stirring the water of her more unsavory moments in life. He had already delved into the pits of his other companion’s minds. He doubted any of them would be particularly happy if they were to ever discover him, not that such a thing was possible.

When she had finally awakened, he was given the chance to confront her. Solas followed Vherlin out of the village with a vigilant gaze, analyzing her every movement. She didn’t seem interested in doing much more than relaxing, and for a moment, he was content to listen to the song that fell from her lips, which he found was quite pleasing. But Solas had more pressing matters to attend to. He started the conversation off easily enough, making inquiries about her world. He found it strange that she still believed herself to be living in a dream, but such feelings faded when she admitted that he was just a character in a story in her world. Such an idea was…unsavory. And that was when she confessed to knowing his true identity.

He had already decided her worth. He couldn’t kill her. After delving through her mind while she slept, he had come to realize that Vherlin would not be much of a threat to him, and he had also come to learn that if she _did_ become a threat, she could be easily manipulated and dispatched after the defeat of Corypheus.  In the meantime, he required his anchor. It was the only means of closing the Breach. Solas settled for a warning, which she seemed to understand easily enough. His threat was not one to be taken lightly.

She had attempted to bring up the subject again during one of their training sessions, but he had been swift in silencing her on the subject. It was not something he was willing to discuss. Solas continued to visit her dreams, though he only allowed her to see him once. Strangely enough, he could not bring forth the memory of how she had entered the breach, and required her assistance in doing so. The memory of her most ungraceful leap into the rift only served to solidify one of his theories, though he would continue to investigate it. As a precaution, he made certain to stress the important of emotional control during their training sessions. The last thing he needed was an unstable anchor.

Solas found himself admitting that the young woman was growing on him a bit. She was curious, and always thirsting for more information, which he was happy to offer. The fact that she would so often come to him with her questions was a rather large stroke against his ego. He could provide the knowledge she required that no one else could. The idea often had him smirking. The others seemed to have accepted her presence as well. Varric had appropriately named the elf ‘Squeak’, and Solas couldn’t help but notice that her strange, habitual noises were somewhat…cute, if not odd. Even Cassandra was loosening up a bit, though the Seeker still insisted on bombarding him with questions, as if to insure that Vherlin was not, in fact, a demon. She wasn’t. It’d be obvious if she were.

He noticed just how awkward the young mage could be. She often blushed at him during their training, stuttering over words that she would have spoken more smoothly were she with Varric. The rogue always seemed to get her to relax in his presence, whereas she seemed almost frightened of Solas, as if his disapproval was the most heinous thing in the world. He attributed it to the fact that they were training, and he knew she didn’t enjoy the idea of failure. Everyone seemed to have gotten used to her odd fidgeting, at least. He had come across others before that had similar behavior. They tended to be a bit more fragile than everyone else. The idea was somewhat agitating, because he recognized just how delicate the situation was. The so called Herald was their only hope of permanently sealing the Breach, and she barely possessed enough strength to face a crowd without panicking.

What was more intriguing was the fact that she seemed to share a bond with the wildlife. He had noticed her interacting quite closely with a wild ram, which was certainly not something a typical person would be capable of. She was no Ranger, he knew.

The idea of going to the Hinterlands with the woman was somewhat frustrating. He knew she wasn’t ready for such excursions, and yet he also knew that the Inquisition could not afford to wait much longer. He maintained a wary eye on the elf that possessed his power. He could already feel the worry creeping into his head, and her confession on having no desire to end the lives of others only served to increase his stress. He had coached her on keeping her emotions in check, and now they would be putting her composure to the test in the most extreme way possible. He should have known it would go terribly wrong.

After their first battle, he had been cautious in approaching her, for reasons that he would not voice to the others. She wore a blank expression, staring off into the distance, absentmindedly rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet, clutching her staff as if it were a lifeline. He could only hope that the mage wouldn’t snap toward them then and there and mistake them for the enemy that she had so solemnly resigned herself to vanquishing. His attempts to gain her attention continued to fail, and cold fingers curled into his chest as he recognized what no one else could, because he had seen it before. It was then, that he knew, she had allowed herself to slip, though into what he did not yet know, and he had no desire to discover it. It was a race against time to pull Vherlin back to herself.

Luckily, she seemed to respond to physical touch when his voice had failed to reach her. He knew the importance of getting the otherworlder (as he so often considered her) to calm down, and so he had worked to achieve some amount of peace with his student. Solas was relieved when his efforts worked, and she seemed to have gotten a hold of herself. He would have to maintain a careful watch on the Herald, just in case certain changes began to present themselves. It would be unwise to leave her, _his anchor_ , in the face of an extreme situation that they might all end up regretting. 


End file.
